Discarded Pawn

The moment he received the Fourth Army's telegram requesting aid, Ivanov felt utterly terrible.

It was painfully obvious—anyone with even a shred of military common sense knew that when an isolated force advanced too deeply and found something amiss, it should retreat immediately.

The Fourth Army had not even been carrying out a combat mission; it had complete freedom of action. After discovering a large enemy force, could they not have immediately adjusted their marching speed, maintained a safe distance from the enemy, and waited for reinforcements to arrive?

Even if they had only realized it belatedly, the Fourth Army could still have chosen to break out and join up with the Russian forces in the rear before the enemy completed its encirclement.

The Fourth Army had cavalry units. It was impossible for them not to have discovered the enemy's movements. The deployment of hundreds of thousands of troops simply could not be kept secret.

Ivanov had received news of the Prussian Army's movements even in the rear. It had merely arrived a little too late; before he could react, the Fourth Army's telegram requesting aid had already come in.

There was no radio in this day and age. The Fourth Army's telegram had been delivered by the airship units to the 107th Division in the rear, then forwarded to headquarters.

They had clearly had ample time, yet failed to act promptly. Ivanov had always loathed commanders like Opodo, who had no sense of the bigger picture.

Ivanov understood the reason perfectly well. The Fourth Army had acted without authorization. If it came slinking back without enough military merit to show for it, the futures of commanders like Opodo would be over.

Waiting for the right moment and seizing the opportunity came with one prerequisite: success. If they failed, it